


Fonder

by OriginalImpossibleSouffleGirl



Category: Sleepy Hollow (TV)
Genre: A Sprinkle of non-Jenny Dating Nick Hawley, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Any Resemblance to Any Fuckass Show Writers Has Been Burned Off By Holy Fire, Because There Has Been Too Much Bullshit In This House, F/M, There Is No Canon Only Zuul, alternate s3
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-04-02
Updated: 2018-09-02
Packaged: 2018-10-13 23:18:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 3,165
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10524009
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/OriginalImpossibleSouffleGirl/pseuds/OriginalImpossibleSouffleGirl
Summary: Crane comes back too early... or is it too late?An AU where Crane comes back to Sleepy Hollow before Abbie does.





	1. Clean Break

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Majestrix](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Majestrix/gifts), [irishlullaby13](https://archiveofourown.org/users/irishlullaby13/gifts), [Kohthefacedealer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kohthefacedealer/gifts), [nathyfaith](https://archiveofourown.org/users/nathyfaith/gifts).



> Alright, let's try this multichapter thing another try, eh?

_ “I realize this might be somewhat of an imposition, considering our...somewhat contentious history.” _

_Hawley’s amused laugh comes over the phone, and Ichabod tenses, irritated._

_“That’s a weird way to say, ‘I was jealous of you,’ man.”_

_ “I was  _ not _ \--” _

_“Relax, Shakespeare,” Hawley soothes. “I’ll do it.”_

_Ichabod draws himself up straight, the pen he was nervously fiddling with stilling._

_“You will?”_

_“Sure.”_

_It had been almost a year since he’d last seen Nick Hawley and Ichabod had been almost certain that he’d refuse his request. It came with a not-inconsiderable amount of risk, after all. Hawley’s easy acquiescence despite their previous enmity admittedly surprises him greatly. Why would he--oh._

_“And what compensation will you be expecting for your generosity?” he asks._

_“This one’s on the house. Courtesy of your favorite--what was it you called me that one time? An unscrupulous pirate? I like that.”_

_Ichabod’s eyes narrow in suspicion and he fights the urge to glare at his phone._

_“And hey, if you can put in a good word for me with that gorgeous partner of yours, then I’ll consider that fair pay, too.”_

_Hawley hangs up then, leaving Crane glaring at the middle distance._

Indeed.

 

** ** ** 

 

_I have to give the devil his due_ , Ichabod muses as the aeroplane touches down on the tarmac at LaGuardia International Airport. In the week following his phone call, Hawley has arranged everything perfectly--so much so that Ichabod himself has very little to do. His parcel is waiting for him at a secure location with associates of Hawley. These same associates had also arranged for his own transportation.

“Don’t worry, they’re cool,” Hawley had assured him.

Ichabod hadn’t been so sure, but after experiencing how smoothly everything has gone, he must grudgingly admit that Hawley was an _efficient_ pirate, at least.

It’s only when he’s in the car--another perk generously provided by Hawley--driving toward Sleepy Hollow that he allows himself to think of the Lieutenant.

_Nine months._

There was a time when he could barely fathom having her out of his sight for ten minutes, much less months.

His hands tighten reflexively on the steering wheel.

He is well aware that he may have irreparably damaged their bond with his extended grief- and shame-driven sojourn. The many calls she’d ignored from him in the past week seemed to suggest so. He is not sure how he will attempt to mend that rift, but mend it he must.

Lord, how he’d missed her these months. If ever he’d doubted the old adage about absences making the heart grow fonder, then by God, he counts himself a believer now. Nary a night went by when his memory didn’t paint exact portraits of his Abbie smiling at him, a mischievous glint in her eye, or didn’t recall every instance of her small hand patting him in camaraderie or comfort.

Or the way her arse filled out the damnable trousers she wore, and how it felt in the few instances when it was pressed against him.

His fingers twitch on the wheel and he grumbles softly at the Global Positioning System advising him his exit is coming near.

Perhaps he has indeed cocked up any chance at a deepening of their bond in a way he’s yearned for longer than he dares admit. But he could not count himself out before trying.

Their lives together were not yet done.

 

** ** **

 

“Mills, hustle!”

Abbie huffs as she pushes herself harder, pulling past Danny on the obstacle course. She knows she’s lagging, but that stupid call from Crane earlier kept buzzing around her head like a damn fly.

_What does he want?_

She utters a sound of frustration and shakes her head slightly.

Scratch that. She doesn’t care. He can’t disappear for nine goddamn months and expect her to pick up the moment he deigns to show signs of life.

Her annoyance pushes her into completing the course well before Danny, and she stops short, hands on her knees and breathing heavily. Gotta add another night of running drills to her schedule.

She straightens up and smirks at Danny, who’s just now crossing the mark designated as the finish line.

“Why do I always feel like I can never catch up to you, Mills?” he grouses good-naturedly, giving her a dazzling smile.

“Probably because you never can,” she teases, then stands at attention when the instructor catches up to them.

Special Agent Natalie Corcoran looks at them silently before turning to Danny.

“You’re gonna have to do a lot better than that if you wanna get out from under my thumb, Reynolds,” she says drily.

Abbie notices the slight clench in his jaw and suppresses a smile. He’ll bitch about that later.

Corcoran turns to her next, and Abbie could swear the stern instructor’s lips give an infinitesimal smile before she bites out a “not bad, Mills.”

“Thank you, ma’am.”

“Don’t think that means I didn’t notice your time went up. I don’t want any backsliding from you, am I understood?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Abbie answers crisply.

_Damn Crane._

“Alright, dismissed. You’ll join your colleagues back here tomorrow at 0600, promptly. Don’t be late. You don’t want me mad before I’ve had my coffee.”

A duet of _yes, ma’ams_ follow Corcoran as she turns around and walks away stiffly.

Abbie and Danny stay at attention for a half-minute before turning to each other and laughing.

“That’s the nicest I’ve ever seen her,” Danny notes.

Abbie nods.

“Must’ve had a good breakfast.”

“Speaking of good meals…”

Abbie exaggeratedly sighs, turning away to grab her water bottle and towel before starting to head back to the dorms.

“Nope. Gotta study, sorry.”

Danny falls into step beside her.

“Come on, Mills, you can do this whole deal completely asleep and still pass with flying colors. Hell, I don’t even know why they haven’t given you your own command by now. Have dinner with me.”

“Well,” she bumps his arm, “I _don’t_ have a command, and I _haven’t_ passed with flying colors--”

“Yet.”

“--so I can’t have dinner with you. Sorry.”

“What’s with you lately, anyway? Did I do anything to upset you, or…”

“Oh, god, don’t make me say ‘it’s not you, it’s me’ right now,” Abbie groans.

He stops, nodding slowly.

“So you _are_ breaking up with me.”

Abbie stops, too, throwing her head back in frustration.

“Can you even call it a breakup if we aren’t really together? Look, Danny,” she continues before he has a chance to say anything. “I like you. A lot. You’re a good guy. And we had fun. Lots of fun, actually.”

“But.”

“ _But_ I need to focus on this right now,” she gestures at the field and buildings, “on my career. I have a lot of shit on my plate and I don’t wanna be the asshole who doesn’t give you what you need. Or what you deserve.”

Danny looks up into the sky.

“For a non-breakup that sure sounds like a breakup speech, Abbie.”

“Shit. It does, yeah. It’s not. But I’m still sorry.”

Danny nods, a gesture of understanding that conveys little understanding in truth.

“I’ll see you around, Mills,” he says quietly, then walks away.

Abbie watches him go, sighing.

_ I have had it with these monkey-fighting men on this Monday-to-Friday plane. _

She stifles a laugh at that old in-joke she had with Jenny when the “love” part of their love lives was being more trouble than it was worth.

Thank god she’d never went there with Crane. If Danny was a distraction, then Crane’s pale, lanky, I-routinely-forget-most-of-my-Founding-Father-friends-were-trash ass would be a double distraction. Triple, maybe. They’d probably already be dead or all speaking whatever demon-language it was Moloch spoke.

The reminder of the first trial of the Apocalypse sends a chill through her and she shakes it off, moving toward the dorms again.

If there is another trial coming--if that’s why he’s suddenly calling so damn much--then she’d handle it, _by herself_ , and Crane could go fuck himself.


	2. Warm Welcome

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Crane finds a not-entirely unexpected welcome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dusting off this old thing, lol. It's a short one, I'm afraid, but it's not over yet!

Crane isn’t surprised to be persona non grata among Team Witness, but he is taken aback by the level of vitriol Jenny hurls his way when he tracks her down at the dive bar where she’s working.

“Oh, _hell_ no,” she growls, and has to be physically restrained from jumping him by the other bartender, a blessedly gigantic man who brought to mind Big Ash.

“You have 2.3 seconds to get the fuck out of my bar before I rearrange your colonizer ass into abstract art,” she adds, still struggling against the other bartender’s grip around her waist.

“Miss Jenny--”

“Ding! Time’s up, motherfucker. Let me go, Jimmy. I need to do something important.”

The giant shakes his head calmly and thankfully keeps hold on Jenny.

“Sorry, Jen, can’t do it.”

“I just wanna talk, I swear.”

“Heard that one before.”

“If I may--”

“You may _not_.” Jenny turns cold eyes his way, and Crane gulps against the burn of shame riding his chest.

“You were gone for _nine_ _months,_ you piece of shit. Not one phone call, not a goddamn letter, and now you walk in all fresh-faced with a Backstreet Boys fucking haircut and you want--what? To get the old band back together?”

Crane clears his throat.

“I was hoping you’d perhaps point me in the direction of the Lieutenant. I’ve been to her home and the station but haven’t been able to locate her.”

Jenny scoffs, then moves back, prompting a wary Jimmy to loosen his hold on her but not break it.

“You good?” Crane hears him say softly.

Jenny gives him a curt nod, then brings cold eyes to bear on Crane.

“Maybe she doesn’t want to be located. Ever think of that one?”

He _hasn’t_ thought about that one, and now the possibility makes his stomach roll ominously like Sisyphus’ rock at the apex of the hill.

The stricken look on his face seems to move Jenny, who softens slightly.

“She’s not here. And even if she were, she’s probably more pissed at you than me--and _she’s_ the scary one.”

Jimmy, who’d cautiously returned to work, snorts disbelievingly, which makes Jenny smirk.

“He knows I’m right,” Jenny indicates Crane, and Jimmy finally moves some ways away to serve a brunette at the other side of the bar who kept making eyes at Crane--or perhaps it was Jenny?

“Miss Jenny, I know I have been atrociously remiss--”

“If that means you fucked up, you’re right and you should say it.”

“But please,” he continues desperately, “I _must_ see the Lieu--Abbie. It’s imperative.”

Jenny eyes him from head to toe coldly.

“‘Must,’ huh? This an apocalypse thing?”

Crane runs nervous fingers through his hair.

“I--partly. I also need to offer my apologies, and--well. I need to see her.”

“You need to offer her more than your apologies, you asshole,” Jenny retorts, reaching to pour both of them a shot of something. “But I wasn’t lying. She’s not here. And she’s not coming back for a while. Sorry.”

She throws her shot back insouciantly, making it very clear that she is not sorry at all.

Crane slumps and also takes his shot, wincing as the liquor makes its way down his throat to explode in a ball of warmth in his belly. He glances down at the shot glass wonderingly.

“It’s tequila, dumbass. You’ve had it before. Maybe not straight…” Jenny voice trails off as she seems to make a decision.

“Look, Crane. I am still supremely pissed at you, so I’m not telling you where Abbie is. But you do look like someone just punted your puppy into the Hudson so against my better judgment, I’m putting you on probation.”

Crane brow furrows.

“Probation?”

“Yeah. I’m putting an ankle bracelet on your ass until I know you won’t put my sister through that shit you pulled again. And in the meantime… I _guess_ you can house-sit with me. But if I find _one_ spanky hanky _anywhere_ I am tossing your ass out, got it?”

“Got it,” Crane affirms somberly.

Jenny huffs.

“Good. Now sit down, my shift isn’t over for another couple hours.”

She pours him another shot, then makes to leave, waving at a blond man who’s rather obnoxiously hailing her attention.

“Miss Jenny, before you go--”

She turns back expectantly.

“What is a ‘spanky hanky’?”

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey, it's Fanfic Writer Appreciation Day! To all my fellow fanfic writers: you're fricking awesome.


	3. Making Moves

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Abbie sets some boundaries, and Crane tries to get his shit together in Abbie's absence.

Abbie sighs, surrounded by study materials for her exam next week and the most obscure texts she could find on Horsemen and the Apocalypse in the main library.

It’s an interesting hodgepodge--protocol on hostage situations and apocrypha on the symbolism and eschatology in the Bible--and yet, it seems to fit right into what she’s starting to realize is her life now. Her own self, to be honest.

_Either way, it’s law and order_ , she thinks ruefully to herself and then winces at the connotation of the phrase.

Her phone plays the theme to Inspector Gadget and she rolls her eyes and smiles. Jenny had changed it before she left for Quantico, and Abbie hasn’t had a chance to change it back.

_Liar,_ she admonishes herself as she picks up the phone, _you miss her and the stupid ringtone reminds you of her._

“Hey, Jenny,” she greets warmly. “What’s up?”

Suddenly, a thought strikes her.

“Are you okay? Has something happened? Did Joe call?”

“Calm down, Pink Ranger,” Jenny drawls. “Everything’s fine. Well, as fine as can be in Sleepy Hollow.”

Abbie relaxes, falling back into her chair.

“Damn. Was kinda hoping I could get out of studying for this exam.”

“Sorry to disappoint,” Jenny says drily. “And actually, sorry in advance for why I’m calling.”

Abbie’s suspicious meter activates.

“Why _are_ you calling? Not that I hate it, it’s just you are chronically allergic to checking in.”

“Yeah, I think someone has me beat in that department,” Jenny quips, then pauses. “And speaking of my beating someone, Crane’s back and he’s staying in your house with me and he has a stupid haircut now.”

Abbie straightens.

“Who? What? When? Where? And last but not least, fucking _why_?”

“Crane. Back. Just today. Currently in your bathroom singing P.M. Dawn of all fucking things. And because...Honestly, I don’t know because. Maybe because he looks...lost? Maybe I’m trying to get into heaven. Whatever.”

Abbie rubs her eyes, suddenly tired.

She’s annoyed at how her heart has started beating in her chest, reminding her just how much she missed his faithless ass and how much it wanted to just...forgive him for breaking it.

_Fuck that._

“He’s out before I get back,” she mutters.

“Abs…”

“I mean it. He can stay until he finds someplace but I don’t wanna talk to him and he’s lost any and all of my bankrolling privileges.”

Jenny’s silence on the other end is thoughtful.

“Fair enough,” she says finally. “But Abbie...what if this is a capital A apocalypse thing?”

Abbie sighs, having considered the possibility more than once when Crane finally decided to remember he had a phone. She looks at the books spread around her.

“I guess I’ll shoot that bridge when I get to it,” she replies.

 

* * *

 

 

Crane scowls. The worst part of his return--which was decidedly _not_ like that of the Prodigal Son--is his complete ignorance of where Abbie is. But his continued reliance on Nicholas Hawley’s disreputable skills runs a very close second.

He looks across the café table at him now, noting crossly that Hawley looks the very opposite of how Crane feels--at ease, certain of his place in the scheme of things.

“You can always come work for-- _with_ me,” Hawley says with an easy smile.

Crane scoffs.

“At the risk of sounding ungrateful for your earlier assistance, I would rather die. Again,” he says grumpily.

Hawley only laughs, darkening Crane’s mood further.

“Man, she really was your better half, huh?”

At Crane’s glare, Hawley raises his hands in surrender.

“Touchy subject, I get it. And you want to talk business. Okay. So at the risk of sounding mercenary,” Hawley pauses as Crane gets the snort out of his system, “what’s in it for me?”

“The satisfaction of helping a...colleague… find his footing?” Crane suggests.

This makes Hawley laugh even harder than before.

“God, I like you, Professor. But you know that’s not my M.O.”

Crane raises an imperious eyebrow.

“Yes, I’m painfully aware.” He looks through the satchel he’s brought with him, having been prepared for Hawley’s response.

He pulls out an ornate necklace, heavy in his hand, that resembles a small music box rather than a pendant. It’s tarnished, but its value is indisputable.

Something Hawley recognizes immediately, since he straightens and eyes the necklace with interest.

“I found this in my family vault,” Crane offers casually. “I can’t be certain, but I believe it is more of a key than ornamentation.”

Hawley tries and fails to act casual.

“Oh?”

Crane suppresses a smirk and presses a tiny catch on the back of the pendant, causing it to spring open in a star shape.

“Unfortunately, I did not find the tome or vault it opens, but I know a privateer like you will find no issue with that.”

It’s Hawley’s turn to raise an eyebrow.

“Privateer, huh? Sounds like a promotion.”

“A pirate is a pirate, sanctioned or no,” Crane mutters.

“Admit it, Shakespeare. You like me,” Hawley teases, reaching for the necklace then frowning when Crane holds it out of reach.

“Preposterous.”

“Okay, so...you’ll let me have this if I get you a work visa? Is that what we’re doing here?”

Crane sighs.

“I will let you _sell_ this and allow you to keep...let’s say half its value in exchange for any and all papers that will make me a legal citizen of this country.”

Hawley pretends to consider it.

“60/40,” he says finally.

“Why, Hawley,” Crane drawls, “how gracious of you to let me keep the larger share. I accept.”

“Wait, that’s not--”

“Shall we ‘shake on it’?” Crane interrupts.

“What about the thing this opens? What if it’s like, the seventh seal or something?”

Crane looks down at the necklace in his hand, considering.

“I suppose we shall have to ‘wing it,’ as Abbie would say.”

Hawley looks unconvinced, but offers his hand anyway.

“You’re the Witness,” he says.

 

* * *

  


_Welcome to Sleepy Hollow. Pop. 144,000._

_Hm. That doesn’t seem correct_ , the Dark Woman muses.

The town gives the impression of having far fewer inhabitants, the early autumn painting it in picturesque browns, reds, and yellows.

One would never guess the rot that lurks at its core.

The Woman glances down at her modern watch, remembering the time when humans relied on sun dials and harvests to mark the passage of time.

Humans. So resourceful, yet so destructive.

“The time grows near,” she murmurs to herself.

She smiles at the sign welcoming her to the town.

“Thank you,” she tells it brightly. “It already feels like home.”

  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tbh, I wasn't expecting to have Hawley in this more than once, but then I realized the character himself wasn't the problem, it was those hack-ass writers. So since I can write him better, and I quite like winding Crane up, please to enjoy his sporadic appearances. Also, a reminder that this Hawley did not date Jenny, has never wanted to date Jenny, and will never date Jenny.
> 
> And finally, I will never not make fun of the population on the show. I get the reference and all, but if y'all have ever been to irl Sleepy Hollow, you'd know just how hilarious that number is lol


End file.
